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From the archives: If only you could eat a bad script

Maximum Z baking, comedy, determination, disappointment, fantasy, frustration, PAGE, perseverance, persistence, screenplay, screenwriting, script, westerns, writing , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Rather a tasty metaphor, no?

I’d originally planned to repost this because I liked what the topic was discussing. It became especially pertinent after reading the first line. The past repeated itself this week with my fantasy-comedy also not advancing to the quarterfinals in PAGE this year. It stung a bit – especially after an earlier draft accomplished it two years ago. But it is what it is, and I’ve gotten past it as I focus on more important stuff. In the meantime, enjoy this post from July 2016.

Before we get to the gist of today’s post, let’s address the elephant in the room: my western did not advance to the quarterfinals of the PAGE contest.

Honestly, I was a little surprised; I thought it would have done better. After a brief wallow in disappointment, I shrugged my shoulders and moved on. It’s just another one of those things over which I have no control. I still have a ton of confidence in this script and might submit again next year. Also waiting to see how it fares in Austin and the Nicholl.

True, it was a rather lousy way to start the weekend, but over the next couple of days, I managed to redirect my focus, which included a nice long run that involved traversing the Golden Gate Bridge, and attempting something I’ve always wanted to try:

Making a pineapple upside-down cake (from scratch, naturally).

Guests were coming over for dinner, and I’d made pies for them before. But this time,  I wanted to try something entirely new and preferably a little challenging. I’d say this falls into both categories.

I scoured the internet for an ideal recipe, found one to my satisfaction, and followed the directions to the letter. The result? It looked like it was supposed to, and that’s where the similarities end. A little too sweet and the center was still kind of goopy. Nevertheless, my guests still liked it, and K & I split the last piece after they left. Not bad for a first attempt.

Why did it not turn out the way I expected? A lot of reasons. The oven’s a piece of junk. It didn’t bake long enough. The ingredients and the amount of them probably need to be tweaked. No matter what, I know now that I can adjust all of these next time and get closer to the results I seek.

Except for the oven. It will forever remain a piece of junk until it dies. Which can’t happen soon enough. But I digress.

Notice all of the comparisons you could make between baking and writing a script? Trying something new and long-sought-after. Seeking advice and guidance. Following the guidelines. Doing what I was supposed to. An okay-but-was-hoping-for-better initial result. Planning ahead on what to fix/adjust for next time.

If a less-than-determined baker ended up with the cake I made, they’d probably denounce the whole process, give up entirely and probably buy pre-made stuff at the supermarket. But we’re made of sterner stuff. We hit a snag or some kind of unforeseen development, and we compensate as best we can. We learn what not to do next time. Sometimes you end up with something jaw-droppingly amazing, and sometimes you end up with something totally inedible.

With this whole experience behind me, I can now focus on projects of the immediate future, which includes another round of editing and revising a script, and making a pie or two for a dinner party this coming weekend.

It’s my intention to have the results of both of these undertakings be totally and utterly irresistible when they’re done and ready to serve.

Relocating to a state of zen – OR – Ohmmmmmm

Maximum Z ambition, analysis, characters, comedy, contest, Creative Writing Career, determination, feedback, Nicholl Fellowship, notes, PAGE, podcasts, reading, rewriting, screenwriting, script, self-confidence, westerns, writing

I'll wear the orange, but no way am I shaving my head
I don’t mind the orange robes or the incense, but no way am I shaving my head

As has been well-documented round these parts, I recently entered my western in two contests. One includes feedback as part of the entrance fee, the other gives it as an option.

I don’t usually go the feedback route when it comes to contests, but it had been recommended, so I bit the bullet and opted to do it.

You know that nervous feeling you get in the pit of your stomach while you’re waiting for some kind of potentially life-impacting news? That’s exactly what I was experiencing. Despite my confidence in the script, plus positive comments from friends and trusted colleagues, the butterflies were still taking up residence in my mid-section.

No matter how much I tried to redirect my concentration on working on the low-budget comedy, that nagging thought about the contest feedback would not go away.

What if after all was said and done, the general consensus was that the script sucked and I’d wasted all that time and effort for nothing? Sometimes there’s nothing as powerful as a writer’s self-doubt. It can be downright crippling.

Then the first email came in. If I’d been hooked up to a heart monitor, the thing would have blown a fuse in trying to keep up.

The notes were very positive. Some intriguing comments about what the reader thought needed work, but they seemed to really enjoy it. Possibly even a lot, which was extremely reassuring.

The way I see it, if the reader isn’t gushing over how perfect and wonderful the script is, then I figure there’s not much chance it’ll place, let alone win. Turns out I’m cool with that. While it would be great to win, this is still a pretty solid result.

Two days later, the next email came in. Oh jeez. All those positive feelings I’d reestablished vanished in a puff of smoke. Here we go again.

But much to my surprise, these notes were on par with their predecessor. Lots of positive things to say, plus some suggestions about potential fixes, plus a few things the reader didn’t catch that I thought were fairly obvious, or at least hadn’t been an issue before.

These notes also included scores in 16 categories. Out of a potential 10, I got 2 8s, 2 10s, and the rest were 9s, which was fantastic. Final score 135 out of 150. Not perfect, but still – they seemed to like it, and nobody’s saying, “You suck! Give up now!”  Again, do I think I’ll win? Not likely. Place? Maybe. But right now, that doesn’t seem important.

This whole experience definitely feels like a “face your fears” kind of thing. I know I can do this, and each draft really does help me improve. I was psyching myself out about how I’d do, and ended up actually doing better than expected. That’s pretty good. And since each set of notes had similar things to say about a particular part of the script, I have plenty of time to work on making those fixes before the deadlines for more high-profile contests like PAGE and the Nicholl. Also pretty good.

But most of all I really like the fact that now I can finally put aside thinking/worrying/obsessing about these contests with a little more confidence in my abilities and get back to focusing on developing my other scripts*.

*I’m taking part in the “write an entire script in November” project, but I admit to having had a bit of a head start by working on the low-budget comedy, which was already around the halfway point. But getting this draft done by the end of the month would still put me ahead of schedule.

-My writing chum Justin Sloan, who’s interviewed me as part of his Creative Writing Career book series, has launched the similarly-named Creative Writing Career podcast. A great listen for creative writers interested in several fields, including screenwriting, books and video games. Highly recommended.

The end is nigh. Near. Comin’ up fast.

Maximum Z adventure, agent, analysis, consultant, contest, feedback, genre, manager, networking, Nicholl Fellowship, PAGE, producer, rewrite, screenwriting, script, westerns, writing

An apt metaphor if ever there was one (unless you're a manager, agent or producer, in which case we can talk about it)
An apt metaphor if ever there was one (unless you’re a manager, agent or producer, in which case we can talk about it)

A self-imposed deadline is fast approaching.

At the end of this week, all operations on my western will stop. The time between now and then involves one last edit/read-through to really tighten it up, but when I close the file in a couple of days, that’s it.

Mostly because I’ve been working on it for so long, and toiled through several major rewrites, that I’m simply feeling burned out on it. Plus at this point, it really feels like doing any more extensive work on it would probably have the opposite, negative effect and do more harm than good. And I like this script too much to have that happen.

As it reads now, it’s a pretty solid example of my writing style. Even if it only ends up being a calling card that results in some assignment work, that’s perfectly fine with me.

Is it perfect? Of course not. Is it above average? So I’ve been told; excessively so, according to more than a few people not related to me. Is it a rousing tale of thrills and adventure that puts a new spin on an old genre? You’re darn tootin’.

I couldn’t have gotten to this point without all the helpful comments and support of some very talented writers and consultants. All of it has helped me make the script as good as I think it can be. For now. I also like the idea of coming back to it in a few months to get it ready for next year’s Nicholl or PAGE.

But the time has come to bring down the curtain once and for all. It has been an amazing experience that I honestly believe has made me a better writer and definitely upped the quality of what I write. As one of my reliable note-givers said to me, “As good as your writing is on this one, your next one is going to be even better.”

I sure hope so.